Memory in Death (In Death 22)

Roarke plucked up a piece of bacon, handed it to her. “For some, it’s simply the having, the accumulating. It’s not what you can buy with it.”

Because it was in her hand, she ate the bacon. “Well, Morris said she’d had good face and body work, so she spent some on that. Daughter-in-law stated Trudy left her better jewelry at home, so she spent some there. Personal stuff,” Eve mused. “Appearance. That fits her. And maybe she invested in something. Bobby’s in real estate. Could be she’s got property. Something she figured to retire to when she was done bleeding her former charges.”

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know. How much she had, who knew she had it, who had access. It might matter.” She ate as she thought about it. “I couldn’t find anything that points to Bobby or his bride. I went through financials, medical, education, criminal. But if either or both of them knew she had a couple million stashed away, and thought there was a shot at doubling that, maybe.”

She toyed with it a moment. “If we can freeze the accounts, prove the funds were from illegal means… Might get the killer to try to follow Trudy’s path to blackmail. Might piss him off, too. And eventually, through the maze of red tape, we might even get the money back where it came from.”

“And justice for all.”

“In a perfect world, which isn’t even close to this one. But it’s an angle. If money was the motive, removing the money could stir things up.”

With some surprise she realized she’d finished her breakfast. She rose. “I’m going to get dressed, get started. Maybe we’ll lower the visual on the security I’ve got on Bobby and Zana. Make it seem like it’s eased up. Need some bait, is what we need.”

She went to the closet, remembered what he’d said about sleet and snow, so detoured to her dresser to dig out a sweater. “It’s the twenty-third, right?”

“Only two more shopping days before Christmas.”

“Makes sense, lighter duty this close to the big day. Couple of out-of-towners cooped up in a hotel. They’d start whining about getting out some. So we let them. See what we can see.”

* * *

At Central, she set up a briefing in one of the conference rooms. She called in Detective Baxter and Officer Trueheart, as well as Feeney, Peabody, and McNab.

She caught them up, then began to assign duties. “Feeney, you’ll continue to follow the money. I realize this isn’t your top priority, so whatever time and manpower you can spare.”

“Things are pretty loose. Losing a lot of my boys over the next day or two. Including this one.” He jerked a thumb at McNab. “No reason I can’t work their asses off until then.”

“Appreciate it. I’m going to need a couple of homers,” she told him. “I want small and discreet. I’m going for a warrant to use them on our two protective custodys.”

“A warrant?” He scratched his fingers into his wiry, ginger-colored hair. “You don’t figure they’ll grant permission?”

“I’m not going to ask for it. So I want something I can get on them without them being aware. You got something in your bag of tricks that’ll give me some audio, it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Tricky.” Considering, he rubbed his chin. “Warrant for something like that, you generally got to have some evidence points to them as suspects, or have their prior knowledge and cooperation.”

She’d already worked the skirt around that one in her head. “In the opinion of the primary, the subjects are already under duress and stress. The purpose of the homers is for their own safety, as the female subject was purportedly abducted once.”

“Purportedly?” Peabody repeated.

“We’ve only got her word on it. We’re running a thin line with these two, between victims and suspects. Homers are my method of walking the line. I’m going to do a dance for the warrant. I’ll call Mira in to back me up if necessary. We get them wired, and we open the cage.”

She turned to Baxter. “That’s where you and your partner come in. I want you out there, soft clothes, tailing them. I want to know where

they go, how they look.”

“You’re tossing us out on the street on Christmas Eve—Eve… Eve.” Baxter grinned. “Somebody had to say it.”

“It would be you. They split up, you split up. You stay in contact with each other, and with me. This is low risk, but I don’t want sloppy. They may be approached. It’s unlikely they’ll be harmed. Probability’s in the low twenties. Let’s take that down to zero and keep sharp.”

“Lieutenant?” As was his habit, Trueheart raised his hand. He wasn’t as green as he once was, Baxter was ripening him. But a little color rose up his throat over his uniform collar when Eve turned to him.

“If they are approached, do we move in to apprehend?”

“You observe, use your own judgment. I don’t want you giving chase and losing this guy on the street. You take him if you’re close enough to do so without risk. Otherwise, you follow, give me the coordinates. From all evidence, the victim was target specific. There’s little risk to the populace, so let’s keep it that way.”

She gestured to the board, and Trudy’s picture. “Still, he did that, so we’re dealing with someone who can and will kill if motivated. I want everybody home for Christmas.”